Reality Becomes You
by autumnreverie
Summary: What happens when you lose the one aspect of yourself that makes you actually you? Are you still the same person? Or perhaps, entirely someone else instead...


Disclaimer: Obviously none of these characters belong to me, but this plot does however. I hope you enjoy the story though. I'm not going to be doing a lot of editing on this because it's only a fanfiction so I apologize beforehand for any typos, but nevertheless inspiration struck and I wanted to write it so I am.

Reality Becomes You

Fidgeting around in the back of the partially overturned carriage, Christine Daae found it increasingly more difficult to breathe. She gasped for air, her eyes bulging slightly from a lack of oxygen as her petite hands tore at the sides of her throat attempting to dislodge the lead pipe that had wedged itself about an inch into her esophagus nearly constricting all airways. Ironically however she actually wasn't bleeding much at all considering the fact that she had just recently acquired three inch wide, gaping hole in her throat – that, under any other normal circumstance, probably would have killed someone within a matter of seconds. Nevertheless, the pipe had entered in such an extremely improbable way that it had actually prevented blood from free flowing from her arteries, and thus was keeping her alive by nothing more than a thread of fate.

Christine could barely make out the silhouette of her fiancée, Raoul, in the darkened carriage, and for a moment, found herself questioning whether or not he was even alive still. He wasn't moving at all and even though she couldn't tell if he was breathing or not she had this sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was gone.

"Christine," a voice said, groggily sounding, her heart fluttered for a moment, but was quickly stifled out by his familiar masked face appearing in the window. "My god, Christine, what has he done to my beautiful Christine."

Her heart beat sped up and her eyes widened as she stared into his dark, yet somehow placid face. How had he found her? Was he watching her still? Stalking her every move? Scrutinizing her every move like a white rat running through a maze? She was sure that at the moment she probably would have let out a scream if it wouldn't have been for the pipe lodged in her throat, but instead all she could do is stare, helplessly into his eyes – her vision beginning to fade a little, but she still hadn't lost consciousness yet.

She felt light as a rag doll as her lifted her out of the wreckage, hoisting her up into his arms protectively like she was some sort of prize that he might lose if he wasn't careful. She wasn't sure what had become of the pipe – all she could see was his face, cold and unforgiving, looking down at her with that same expression with that exact same expression he had given her two weeks ago when she left him for Raoul. It was a sort of sad face, pitiful and longing, and for a moment, she thought she saw tears, but then again, perhaps it was nothing more than the reflection of light.

Her eyes fell limply to the ground – watching Erik's shadow dance across the snow covered ground that was glittering in the moonlight. She felt cold and numb to the world, her head spinning like she was twirling around the room like a ballerina when in reality she was only moving in one solitary, straight line. Behind her she could see the remains of the carriage, it looked bad, and she was fairly sure that she was a horror to behold herself at the moment. She didn't struggle against his chest at all, and she could hear his heart beating even through all his clothes. It was a strange feeling, warm and somehow calming yet exhilarating at the same time – being this close to what was keeping him alive made her feel nervous somehow.

"I love you Christine," he said, she couldn't see his face at the moment, but she knew that he was sincere about his feelings, even if he probably was still unsure of what love really is, after all how can you allow yourself to love someone when you hate yourself? When you hate the sight of your own face? It was something that Christine didn't understand as you can't allow your heart to open up to others entirely without loving yourself as well. "I shouldn't have let you go with him. It was a mistake."

It wasn't a mistake, she thought bitterly, wondering if Raoul was even alright at the moment – her angel of music hadn't even so much as made an attempt to check on him, all he had done was pull her out of the mess leaving Raoul for dead. Although she wasn't sure why she would ever believe that she could expect any more from him; after all, this was the same man who had nearly killed Raoul due to his jealousy.

"We'll be to the opera house soon...I've already bandaged up some...it..," he started to say, but Christine's mind drifted off elsewhere blocking out the rest of the sentence, when had he bandaged her up anyway? Her mind was groggy. She couldn't remember anything, it was all like faded flashing scenes of black and white with a bit of gray in the middle. It was an interesting sensation.

Back to the opera house though...back to where it had all began, it was ironic like that, she thought, her world becoming considerably darker as her vision finally gave in allowing her rest. Her last memory was of the sound of a gate screeching closed – it was such an unpleasant sound...

Author Note:

Just to let you know she isn't dead, that sentence above almost sounds like she died but I just wanted to clarify that she didn't. This will probably be my only author's note in this story.


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